“Do I look like a verdammt secretary to you?” Schuldig demanded in outraged tones, “That’s not what we’re here for!”
“Just do it,” ordered Crawford, “Takatori wants it back by lunchtime.”
Schuldig stared at him narrow-eyed for several long seconds before snatching the folder from Crawford's hand, turning in a swirl of green coat-tails, and storming from the kitchen.
A cup of coffee was what he needed, Crawford decided. Either that or a large whiskey and soda. Sometimes mood-altering substances were the only way to cope with certain German telepaths.
Nagi watched Crawford pour himself a drink before commenting,
“You do realise sending him to do that is a recipe for disaster?”
“Takatori has to learn we’re not his officeboys somehow,” Crawford replied, then his mouth twisted in a wry smile, “What better way to get it across than our own portable chaos generator?”
Nagi’s face lit up with one of his rare smirks.